I'm not well enough
by GlacierWhite
Summary: Mr. Knightley hurried back from Landon with no view at all after hearing the news of the best nature…
1. Chapter 1

Mr. Knightley hurried back from Landon with no view at all after hearing the news of the best nature…

 **I'm not well enough**

"Harriet and Mr. Knightley?!"

Emma was too distracted to know what to think, too absent-minded to be aware where she was going. She hadn't realized that she had passed through the back door of the garden, and wandered too far that the surroundings had become strange to her. But what did that matter, what did anything matter if Mr. Knightley was going to marry a woman who was not her.

She rambled without felling her feet and gazed without seeing a view until a familiar figure caught her eye right after turning a corner of the lane. It was that firm and upright figure in that becoming mazarine cloak. She knew now that that was something she could never overlook for the world. She stood still and doubted if she had created the illusion. He was not supposed to be here at the present time.

The approaching man had obviously seen her too and galloped his mount faster. Emma managed to collect herself at full steam as she would not let him perceive her distress. The clip-clop grew nearer and nearer, seemingly too loud to be rational. She could now distinguish his features clearly and was confused by the horrified look on his face. What's the matter? Was anything wrong?

"Emma! Watch your back!"The Knightly man let out a hoarse cry while dismounting from the still-galloping horse. Emma turned instinctively around and was petrified by the feet-away overwhelming carriage which was dashing directly towards her.

Emma was knocked down by a great force applied on her shoulder while she saw Mr. Knightley was flying out like a kite, hitting a stout tree trunk heavily and bouncing back onto the ground without a slightest further movement.

"Mr. Knightley!" Emma screamed at the top of her lungs and crawled desperately over to his side. His eyes closed tightly. Blood stained his handsome face and snow-white shirt collar, multiple bruises and scratches covering his right temple and cheek. "Oh, no, no, no, please…" She cupped his face with trembling hands, almost unable to support herself. She leaned her cheek to his lips to feel his breath, one hand fumbled about under his vest searching for his heartbeat.

When his staying alive was finally convinced, she could not help but rest her forehead against his and burst into tears, "Mr. Knightley…" But she pulled herself together soon. Crying like a fragile girl would do no good to her Mr. Knightley, she should take him back into the house as soon as possible and had Dr. Perry treating him.

The perpetrating carriage had vanished disgracefully long ago. Looking around anxiously with a hope that someone may help, she certainly would not leave Mr. Knightley lying alone unconsciously on the cold and clammy ground and go seek help herself. God bless, there was a ten-year-old boy playing over there in the fields and she even recognized him as the youngest son of poor Grays whom she had visited regularly in the past year.

"Tony! Tony Gray! Come over here if you please."Emma cried and waved her hand to the little boy. Tony looked up and paused a second before running across the fields and standing in front of the two, looking fearfully down at Mr. Knightley.

"You're Tony, right?"

"Yes, Miss Woodhouse."

"Dear Tony, would you please run to Hartfield to declare that Mr. Knightley is injured and let them send the carriage here at once?" Emma groped about and took off her earrings, "Give these to your elder sister. I'm sure she will be very proud of you!"

"Yes, Miss Woodhouse, at once." With a respectful bow, Tony ran away.

After making sure the boy was in the right direction, Emma drew her attention immediately back to Mr. Knightley who was still in a coma. She reached out to caress his uninjured cheek and was stunned by the terrifying coldness indicated by her fingertips. "Mr. Knightley, Mr. Knightley!" A sudden panic overwhelmed her. She fumbled again to assure herself that her Mr. Knightley would never do such a cruel thing to leave her alone on the earth.

He was still alive, but only for now… Emma sobbed, shaking like a leaf, sitting on the damp ground and holding his upper body tenderly close to her chest to keep him in warmth. The carriage was not possible to be here in less than a half hour which meant it would take much longer to get him treated. Yet she dared not even to think how badly he had been injured. He was collided by a steely horse and cart and then was thrown out on a rigid tree trunk like a broken doll, which must have terribly damaged his ribs, even the internals. What if…

She could not afford to picture this anymore, cradling him a little closer, staring at his lifeless face and cried out. "Mr. Knightley, please don't leave me! What should I do if I could no longer have you around. You're so kind, so wise, so noble, and so young. It's not fair for this happening to you." She choked, let tears rolling down.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Knightley. It's my fault. Have I not strolled this way you would never get hurt. I have never done you any good, always slighted your advices, challenged your judgments, irritated you, quarreled with you. What a stupid, hateful woman I'm. But I knew now I was wrong. I promise I can change, just please give me a chance to show you. I will read. I will play. I'll do no more match-making, no more meddling. I'll be kind to Miss Bates, be true friend of Miss Fairfax. Whatever you lectured me, I will do.

My dear Mr. Knightley, please don't leave me. You haven't known how much I love you. Oh, I'm sorry, it doesn't matter. If you love Harriet, it's alright for me to see you two to be happily married. I'll wish you joy with all my heart, if only you promised to stay."

My dearest, most beloved Mr. Knightley, I'll do whatever you want, if only you would stay with me."


	2. Chapter 2

It's almost an eternity before Emma finally got some helping hands. A groom was dispatched to fetch Dr. Perry directly. James and another footman carried Mr. Knightley very carefully into the coach and set off immediately after Emma following in.

Emma knelt beside Mr. Knightley and wrapped her arms around his shoulders to keep his body still, struggling between getting home as quickly as she can and moving as smoothly as possible. Mr. Knightley didn't wake up once on the way home even though the jolts were sometimes perceptible. Emma fixed her eyes on his blood-stained face, tears streaming down, soaking his coat.

Mr. Woodhouse and Dr. Perry had been anxiously waiting at the door when the carriage came to a halt in front of the house. "Oh, my dear child, what happened? Are you well? You look so pale. And how is Mr. Knightley? Is he well?"

"Papa, I'm fine. But Mr. Knightley is not. I'll talk to you later." Emma followed Dr. Perry to describe what had happened to Mr. Knightley and what he was like during the last one hour. Dr. Perry frowned gravely and asked a stretcher or alternative to move him.

Emma gathered almost all her household staff to execute whatever Dr. Perry commanded. And before giving orders to Mrs. Hall, the housekeeper, she turned to Mr. Woodhouse and said briefly, "Father, Mr. Knightley was seriously injured because of me," She paused a second and added, "for saving my life, so I'm going to have him staying with us till he's fully recovered."

"Of course my dear, you're right. But what do you mean by saving your life?" Mr. Woodhouse became obviously agitated on hearing something regarding his daughter's life. But Emma didn't explain more, just hugged him and simply replied, "I'm fine, Papa." then turned again to her housekeeper.

"Mrs. Hall, please prepare the boys room for Mr. Knightley." The loyal housekeeper lifted her kind eyes with a little surprise but didn't question it. "Send someone to Abbey and let Mrs. Hodges know that Mr. Knightley will stay at Hartfield for a while, and ask if she could spare Mr. Knightley's valet to come and aid, whom I believe can take better care of Mr. Knightley than our man."

"Very well, Ma'am, right now."

Emma got back to the closed door of a small sitting room in which Dr. Perry was examining Mr. Keightley, paced back and forth, face pale, cold sweat rolling down, till she could no longer support herself and slumped down on the bench along the side of the corridor.

And she almost jumped at the sight of Dr. Perry, "How is he, Doctor? I mean, Mr. Knightley!"

"He has plenty of bruises and scratches all over the right side of his body, meanwhile a fractured upper arm and at least six broken ribs."

"And?" Dr. Perry's grave look indicated that things couldn't be this easy.

"Yet he hasn't woken up until now, and I'm not sure whether he has any severe internal damage."

"Is there anything we can do then?"

"I have cleaned and treated the wounds, stabilized the fractured bones. His pulse is steady, though not strong. Several drugs can help reduce the pain when he is awake. But for now, we can only watch and wait. "

Emma stiffened, forgetting to show her gratitude to the doctor.

"Miss Woodhouse, let Mr. Knightley rest comfortably, have someone watching him all the time. I'll be here early tomorrow morning or any time he wakes or I'm wanted."

"Oh yes, Dr. Perry, thank you so very much! And if you please, I thought all these have been too much to my father. "

"I'm going to see him now. "

"Thank you Doctor!" Emma curtseyed gratefully and hurried into the room in which Mr. Knightley was lying.

Riley, Mr. Knightley's valet, had arrived with his master's supplies. After giving a very detailed instruction on how to care for Mr. Knightley, Emma spared herself a little while to console her father and prepare dinner for him and Dr. Perry. By leaving her father to the company of the kind doctor, Emma spent most of the evening in her nephew's, now Mr. Knightley's room.

He had been carefully cleaned and changed into a light gray nightgown, lying quietly in bed, pale and broken. Emma had never seen him in this condition, this fragile. To her he was always healthy, lively and strong, but now…She took his left hand, minds wandering all over her life time where he had always been faithfully by her side. And she had taken him for granted, never treasured his presence and merit until he might no longer belong to her, body and soul.

She shook her head driving these unhappy ideas away, wiped the tears unconsciously filling in her eyes. She should be strong, do what she was required, treat Mr. Knightley as he deserved when she still could.

It's been late night, though reluctant, it would be highly improper for her to remain in his room any longer. She picked up the glass of water and spoon, moistened his cracked lips, tucked him up tenderly and summoned Riley.

She went back to her own bedchamber and left the door a crack open so she could perceive the slightest movements in Mr. Knightley's room which was just next to hers. She sat contemplating for a moment and washed, then called her maid to help her dress up.

"Dress up? Won't you go to bed, Ma'am?"

"Don't mind, just do what I said." She didn't know when Mr. Knightley would wake up, nor would he ever do. But whenever it would be, she would be there right away.

She finally fell down on the top of her blanket and woke with the first light of dawn. She jumped out of bed and rushed to the next room, knocked at the door which was directly opened by the loyal and diligent Riley.

"Does Mr. Knightley wake up?"

"Not yet, but he seems sleeping, and well."

"Thank you Riley, you may go back to your room and get some sleep, I'll tend to Mr. Knightley."

"Thank you Miss Woodhouse." Riley bowed and withdrew.

It's still very early in the morning. Emma stepped over and sat in the chair at Mr. Knightley's bedside. A beam of dawn light leaking through the crack of the curtain illuminated his face gently, causing Emma the illusion that he was sleeping peacefully, not passing out. She stared at him, could not help running her fingers down his cheek.

And when he fluttered his eyelids, opened his eyes, recognized Emma, and gave her a brightest smile, time stopped!


	3. Chapter 3

For a moment Emma just stared, down at the man who was smiling at her.

"Emma!"She never heard her name was addressed this deliciously all her life.

"Mr. Knightley!" She murmured.

"Are you injured?"

"No, not the slightest! You stay still, don't move, I call the doctor!"Emma bolted out suddenly, stormed out and fleetingly back again, leaving a bewildered Mr. Knightley rolling his eyes busily following her.

"Mr. Knightley, you have a great many bruises on the right side of your body, a fractured right arm and six broken ribs, besides those, do you feel unwell elsewhere?" Emma bent to him and asked most eagerly.

Mr. Knightley's pretending to be scared and recoil made her chuckle, but was not enough to remove her anxiety which led him to obey her resignedly. He took a few deep breaths, squirmed exaggeratedly under the covers, and winced at the direct consequences, but gave a satisfying assurance, "No, I don't think so."

Emma let a long-holding breath out, slumped down into the chair, buried her face in the sheet beside his arm and sobbed.

"Emma, I'm fine. Don't cry." Mr. Knightley stroked her hair gently.

"I'm not crying." Emma looked up, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, managed a smile at her dear Mr. Knightley. "But I'm truly sorry for putting you in this condition. I don't know what will become of me if anything happens to you."

"Emma," Mr. Knightley wiped away a tear from her cheek, "You ought to know this was not your fault, it's that possessed carriage should be blamed. And you must know I can never forgive myself if anything happens to you."

"But…" Their conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door, Dr. Perry arrived much sooner than Emma had expected.

"I was about at the gate when I met your man."Emma expressed her deep gratitude to the kind doctor and went out of the door, leaving room for his examination of Mr. Knightley.

Ten minutes later Emma was utterly relieved when Dr. Perry reassured that Mr. Knightley suffered no internal injuries, and it would be only a matter of time for him to be fully recovered. "I won't say it's all lucky, Mr. Knightley's consciousness and strong muscles prevented him from any fatal injuries. I believe in a month he will be as lively as he used to be."

"I have left a prescription for the pain and wounds, milk and bone soup can help his healing." Emma nodded earnestly on the instructions, seeing Dr. Perry downstairs.

When she came back, a house maid was approaching the room carrying a tray of food. Emma took it from her and carried it in herself. "Riley is here, but he was up all night so I sent him to sleep in the morning."

Emma put the tray on the night table, and then got in a dilemma. She just realized that it's not possible for Mr. Knightley to sit straight for now. She could only pile up a few pillows against the headboard and help him carefully up a little leaning on them. In this posture he could surely not eat by himself, let alone with a fractured right arm.

Emma flushed deeply but did not hesitate for long. She picked up the soup bowl and sat on the bed, eyes focusing on her own hands, "I'm sorry to offend your independence, but if you don't mind…"

Mr. Knightley was perfectly aware that he should not accept Emma's offer. And he knew well too that Emma knew it's improper for her to do so. But he also knew it was her nature that she would take all of the blame for the accident and humble herself to do anything to make amends.

He shouldn't. But, it was Emma, right? His handsomest, dearest, sweetest Emma. Someone might resist such seduction, a saint or something of that sort. But it was definitely not him. He would give anything for Emma's least attention, let alone this kind of intimacy. Damn the propriety.

Emma's crimson drained out at the humiliated silence. She bit her lower lip hardly, regretting putting forward such a stupid proposal. What would he think of her? Had she sunk further in his opinion after all those evil mistakes she had made during the past few months? She felt she could no longer stand this, maybe the sooner she disappeared the better.

As she was about rising to her feet and escaping from the room, a warm hand grabbed her slender wrist, "Where are you going, Emma?" Emma lifted her eyes, meeting another pair filled with a mixture of anxiety and desire. "I'm starved." Emma relaxed and grinned at the last word, spooning out a spoon of pottage to his lips.

She suffered an extreme shyness, colored again when shuttled her hand mechanically, daring not look up at his eyes even once. And he stared obsessively at her, her bright eyes, pink cheeks, soft lips… forgetting to open his mouth time and again.

The sweet torture came to an end after an apple pie was wiped out. Emma exhaled deeply and stood up.

"I believe I can eat a little more." Mr. Knightley protested.

"No, Dr. Perry said you shouldn't eat too much at one time."

"All right, then when may I have my next meal?"

Emma shot him a mock-annoyed look, turning around before chuckling delightedly.

It was still too early for Mr. Woodhouse to get up. Emma sent her maid for the newspapers to entertain Mr. Knightley who had lain back down comfortably and glanced curiously around the room.

"I'm sorry for taking the liberty of taking you here. It may not be as convenient to you as at Abbey."

"No Emma, I much prefer to be at Hartfield. What a pitiful creature I would be if lying solitarily down at Abbey with no one caring about and attending to me."

"Nonsense, how can that be? You are the master of Donwell, the entire household will revolve hastily around you like the earth does to the sun."

"But I don't want to be the sun of them," He paused and then added. "I want a sun of myself."

Emma had no much time to ponder what he meant as the maid had come back with the latest newspapers. In the following one or two hours Emma read aloud and they discussed fervently the news and the expansions and the associations as they did in the past many years, only it was usually Mr. Knightley who performed the reader.

When Mr. Knightley fell asleep again on account of both tiredness and the side effect of the drugs, Emma went downstairs to see if her father had risen and accompany him on breakfast. Mr. Woodhouse was quite consoled while hearing Mr. Knightley was out of danger, and gave a great deal of compassion and opinions on how to care for him.

After breakfast Mr. Knightley woke again. Mr. Woodhouse went to see him and spent their daily morning together before excused himself for his afternoon nap habit.

When Emma was left alone in the room, Mr. Knightley immediately announced that he was hungry, although just a moment ago he had declined Mr. Woodhouse's suggestion of some tea. Emma rolled her eyes but would by no means reject his demands.

She behaved much more naturally this time, even could laugh at him when wiping away a crumb from the corner of his lips. "Maybe I have your father to thank for."

"For what?"

"You're extremely good at taking care of people."

"May I take this as a compliment?"

"That's exactly what I am saying."

"Aha, it is very rare from you. I can hardly recall when I had ever got your last one."

Before Mr. Knightley could speak something to protest, their attentions were caught by a horse's whinny. He frowned and she raised her eyebrows, approaching the window to verify her guess. "it's John."

"You wrote to Isabella?"

"Even Dr. Perry couldn't tell when you would wake up yesterday, and John is your only brother. Sorry I acted without your being consulted."

"You must be worried, I suppose?"

"Could never be too much."

John had come to the second floor. Mr. Knightley cheered himself a little up, and Emma went to the corridor to receive him. John's anxiety blew away when he strode into the room and caught sight of Mr. Knightley who was leaning against a pile of pillows, smiling archly at him.

"You well?"

"You can say so. A few broken ribs. Nothing serious."

"I'm sorry John, it's my fault."

"Emma! I have told you it was not your fault. It's that carriage or the coachman who had committed the offence." Emma was taken aback by the sudden change of Mr. Knightley's emotion, he sounded almost angry.

"But…"

"No buts Emma, I suppose you do not want to quarrel with me in this situation."

"All right, I'm sorry. You calm down please."

"I can see you are truly well, still have energy to fight with Emma."

Both of the other two rolled their eyes.

"I do not mind you are here, but please don't trouble Isabella and the children next. According to Dr. Perry, I'll be completely fine in at most one month."

John struggled and shrugged, "Fine, the children will only trouble you."

Emma inquired after her sister and the children and then went to talk to the house keeper about dinner and other matters, leaving the two brothers alone to chat.

…

Mr. Knightley had never found before that Hartfield's dinner was this insipid. He could hardly swallow it.

"Do you want me to bring some refreshments from Abbey, Sir? Of course that will be very rude. Please forgive me, Sir."

"Hush. I just have no appetite. I have dined here more than at home I believe."

"It's very true, Sir. I beg your pardon again."

"Take it easy, I won't reproach you for that." Riley was diligent and smart, Mr. Knightley trusted and liked him. But when could Emma extricate herself from the family dinner and came back to him?

His single desire was over-satisfied soon. The whole small party finished their dinner quickly and spent the rest of the evening in his room. Mr. Woodhouse and John played backgammon at the table placed near the door while Emma sat by the bed, reading a book to him.

Mr. Woodhouse retired first due to his fear of late hour. Considering Mr. Knightley's health condition, John and Emma retired soon after.

"Emma." When Emma was about to close the door, Mr. Knightley called and stopped her. Emma took a pause and went back to his side.

"I apologize for my manner in the afternoon, I was not angry with you."

"I knew. You do not want John to hate me."

"Not only. I truly want you to know that this was not your fault."

"All right, I promise you I will never say so again." Emma smiled compliantly at him.

Mr. Knightley sighed, only not say so! But wasn't it one of the reasons why he loved her so much?

"Good night, Mr. Knightley."

"Good night, Emma!"


	4. Chapter 4

It showed to be a fine, bright day the following morning. Emma got up early with an equally bright spirit. Mr. Knightley's injury worried her greatly, but his being in good humor had compensated for it. Emma couldn't help smiling to herself while recalling his sometimes innocent, even boyish expression when he wanted her attentions.

Mr. Knightley had been superior to her in almost every respect all her life, and she was so used to his lectures and being her mentor no matter how from time to time she irritated or teased him. It touched her softly when Mr. Knightley appeared so at home and genuinely content under her care.

John had taken off for London after breakfast at Mr. Knightley's urging, "Matters as trifling as this shouldn't bother a man of sense. Get back to Isabella and your clients. Nothing needs to be worried about when I'm remaining at Hartfield. "

Mr. Weston, on behalf of his wife and himself, called in the mid-morning and was received upstairs. Mr. Knightley inquired after Mrs. Weston while Mr. Weston expressed their unaffected greetings and asked Mr. Knightley's opinions on a few parish businesses during his short visit.

Mr. Woodhouse accompanied Mr. Knightley quite a few hours through the day when Emma was busily engaged in receiving the incessant visitors who was coming to show their concern for Mr. Knightley. Emma, as Mr. Knightley's proxy, received and promised to deliver their best wishes to the widely respected man as well as conveyed Mr. Knightley's gratitude and apologies of not being able to be present to their kindest neighbors.

When it seemed that the whole village had come and gone, Emma heaved a big sigh of relief and hurried upstairs. The room was quiet as was expected since it's the time of day for Mr. Woodhouse to take a nap. Emma tiptoed to the bedside to check on Mr. Knightley whom she presumed probably fell asleep too.

He did, lying elegantly in bed with eyes closed. Sun shining, fragrance wafting, Emma stood and enjoyed the sight for a moment before remembering there's something she wanted to ask Riley. But Mr. Knightley opened his bleary eyes when she was about to tiptoe out.

"I thought you were sleeping."

"I was."

"Sorry I woke you up."

"You didn't. I don't want to sleep right now."

"Why not?"

"Just don't."

"You are always known as a sensible man by the whole world."

"So what?"

"A sensible man knows he should sleep now for his body's sake."

Mr. Knightley blinked, Emma raised her eyebrows.

"Were you leaving?"

"No, I'm not leaving." Emma abandoned her thought about finding Riley, stepped closer.

"Will you leave if I sleep?"

"No, I will not leave when you sleep." Emma sat in the nearby armchair.

"You promise?"

"I promise."

Mr. Knightley searched her face incredulously for a second before closing his eyes, but opened again almost at once. "What if you are not here when I awake?"

"I'll be the first object you see when you open your eyes, I swear." Emma tucked him up and reassured firmly.

Mr. Knightley pursed his lips and shut his eyes, falling asleep immediately.

For half an hour Emma did nothing but watch him sleep, as though it was the most natural, most important thing for her to do in the rest of her life. When a dark cloud floated across the sun, casting a shadow over the bright room, it shadowed her too.

In the next half an hour Emma fell asleep herself, curling up in the chair. So when Mr. Knightley did wake up, the first thing he saw was Emma sleeping by his side. A picture he had seen a million times in his dreams, the dreams he was never willing to awaken from.

...

"What are you doing? Mr. Knightley?" When Emma settled her father to bed and got back, Mr. Knightley was hiding under the covers, leaving only two eyes looking at her.

He made no answer.

Emma walked over and sat on the bed, reaching out to remove the blanket muffling his nose and mouth.

He resisted it by clutching the blanket tightly.

Emma tensed up at first, but soon eased off by searching his eyes carefully, seeing no seriousness in them. "So what is it, Mr. Knightley?"

"I don't want you to see me." His voice was muffled against the covers.

"Why?" Emma widened her eyes curiously.

"I'm ugly now."

"Who told you, Riley?"

"He certainly dared not. No one, but I know."

"No, Mr. Knightley, you are not ugly, not at all. On the contrary, you're the handsomest man I have ever beheld." Emma suppressed her chuckles, trying again to pull down the covers.

"I am. I can feel the scars on my face."

"Even if you were, I have seen too much of you to be scared." Emma teased him.

"So I actually am."

"No, you are not!" Emma picked up a hand mirror from the night stand and let him admire himself in it. "See? Just a few scratches and abrasions which will soon be thoroughly gone. Not a trace will be left on your handsome face."

The swelling had died away under Dr. Perry's treatments while the remaining faded colors only recalled his braveness and recommended his manliness.

"It must be horrified in the first place." Mr. Knightley examined himself in the mirror.

"Uh-huh, a little worse."

"John must be glad when he yesterday saw me."

"What do you mean by that? I could only see his anxiety and worry." Emma turned confused.

"He always envied me because I'm handsomer than him."

Emma giggled violently at Mr. Knightley's statement, almost choked, "Are you serious? I must write to Isabella to confirm it."

"Please do it later, I cannot fight him at present."

Emma managed hard to cease her laughter, and perceived that Mr. Knightley was watching her with delight, eyes glinting.

Involuntarily she colored, with a hope that the candle lights could cover it for her, she pointed out, "Mr. Knightley, it's time for you to sleep."

"Ten more minutes." He prayed.

"Well, ten more minutes." Emma found it's harder and harder to refuse him anything.

"Tell me a bedtime story, Emma."

"Bedtime story?" Emma could hardly believe her ears.

"You have ever made me an offer of that, but you never fulfilled it."

"Have I?" Emma frowned, trying to recall something from memory.

"Yes, you were thirteen years old then, and I was taking a nap in the sitting room."

"Then why didn't I do it?"

"You read me a Shakespear instead."

"And you remembered all of these after so many years."

"I suppose I did."

"Well then, which story do you want? The one for Henry, or the one for John?"

"I want the one for George, Emma."


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for the lovely reviews, I love the sweetness too. But how could these two get along with each other without hopelessly misunderstanding each other? :D

And doing this part is so disgusting, which, I believe, is why it took me so long to update. :D

...

"Good morning, Miss Woodhouse."

"Morning Riley, is Mr. Knightley awake?"

"Yes, and he has asked about you just now, Miss Woodhouse." Riley made a bow and withdrew directly to the stairway, clearly having not the habit of ushering Emma to his master. What an incompetent servant, ha!

Emma knocked at the door gently and pushed it open without waiting for an answer, but turned instantly round and hurried out, deeply blushed, "I'm sorry."

"Wait, Emma, what's wrong?"

Emma halted at the doorway and laughed at herself helplessly.

It's true that being up and standing by the window was hardly more wrong than lying in bed. Likewise, it wasn't wrong for Mr. Knightley to get out of bed in merely a loose dressing gown and front Emma without a velvet quilt covering over him. It's inhuman to require him to get dressed and undressed each time he got up when following Dr. Perry's suggestion of some proper exercises.

But it's wrong for him to pick out that low-key yet exquisite gray plaid morning gown which becoming him so well, recommending him in every respect of his feature and figure. And it's more wrong for him to be even more fetching in gowns than when he was properly, formally attired.

So it was after all his fault that Emma failed to keep her pulse beating in its common rhythm and face him as easily as usual or at least as she had behaved in the last week.

Emma turned tardily back with eyes firmly down, "I'm glad you are well enough to get out of bed."

"If not for Dr. Perry who said this is what I must do unless I want to stay in bed forever, I'd much rather lie in there. I'm too worn now to be on my feet." Leaning against the window frame, Mr. Knightley complained ruefully.

"How long have you been standing there?" Emma stepped hastily over to him on hearing his complaint, putting all the agitations and awkwardness behind and having not at all a suspicion on his evident exaggeration.

"Half an hour, I guess."

"Maybe you should try it step by step, do not commit yourself. Come." Emma took his left arm, employing all her thoughtfulness and tenderness, settled him back in the bed.

After having his breakfast - with Emma's assistance, taking his medicine - under Emma's coaxing and forcing, browsing the daily news - by Emma's sharing, Mr. Knightley grew quite tired and sleepy, yet he resisted the natural demand and kept chatting with Emma.

"Emma, I'm sorry for occupying so much of your time to attend to me."

"Why do you say that? It's my fa… You are confined to bed now only because of… All right, I don't mind it, actually quite my pleasure."

"But you haven't left home since the day I stayed here, maybe the longest you haven't seen Mrs. Weston?"

"Maybe, but Mr. Weston called every day, and I knew from him that Mrs. Weston is very well. There're still a few weeks ahead, I will go to see her when you're better."

"And you didn't visit your little friend either. Has she come as frequently as usual? Your little friend, yes, I mean Harriet…"

Emma stiffened at the resounding of the very name which she had managed so hard to avoid its coming into their conversations or even into her mind, though she knew well that she was only deceiving herself.

Mr. Knightley hadn't mentioned her until now in these days, and he had appeared to be happy and content with almost only Emma's company and society (if those of Mr. Woodhouse didn't count). But it's comprehensible that he would think less beyond his health condition when suffering great pain and discomfort. Also it's natural for him to feel easy and unrestrained under the care of Emma, his oldest family friend, or to some extent his younger sister.

But when he was gradually mended, when life got back to its usual orbit, and when the fairyland Emma had built for herself was to be demolished, it's time for her to face the cruellest truth.

And as it was, Harriet did have called, twice. The first time was in the second day, she hurried over with undisguised shock and worry. And Emma was extremely sorry for her not only that she didn't even try to arrange their meeting, but also because she had always counted herself as the cause of the accident, in which the one who was injured, somehow she considered, no matter how reluctantly she was willing to admit, belonged to Harriet.

The second time was two days ago, Harriet paid a shot visit before dinner time and was received by Emma with open arms. In this visit Harriet seemed to have something she wanted to consult, or perhaps confessed to Emma. She asked after Mr. Knightley in a manner that he was likely involved in whatever she was vacillating about. And Emma had intentionally ignored the implications which she had actually sensitively detected and shifted their conversations to other topics. She walked Harriet to the garden gate with great relief when she took sudden leave.

But now Emma was deeply regretting what she had done, she hated herself to be such a selfish, despicable woman. She was utterly depressed and ashamed of herself to be so much inferior to Harriet who was oppositely unaffected and artless, the exact qualities that Mr. Knightley appreciated. And Mr. Knightley deserved undoubtedly the better woman, Emma, who loved him so much, would secure his felicity at whatever cost, even that of her own.

All these thoughts ran through her mind in just a few seconds, she soon resolved and pulled herself together so as to speak with tolerable composure, but then found that he had fallen asleep, with a beautiful curve adorning his lips. He was sleeping with Harriet's name hanging over his tongue, was he talking to her delightfully in his dreams as he had always done recently?

Emma was genuinely grateful for the God's mercy so generally granted on her. The last week was the happiest one she had ever possessed, and would be her dearest reminiscence when Mr. Knightley was ineluctably fading away from her life. But even she had accepted the truth, how could she bear it without tears and a broken heart?

Mr. Knightley did have a delightful dream. He was still smiling when he woke up, and instantly looked round for Emma out of habit which was newly formed in this last week. He was delighted when he saw Emma sitting just there, eyeing out of the window; was confused and worried when he detected her tears and low spirits, and was astounded when he pondered a moment and then realized what he had done to his beloved Emma.

What an abominable scoundrel you were, George Knightley! Had you forgotten why were you so eagerly coming back from London? How could you be so thoughtless and selfish to let Emma smile at you all the time when her heart was broken and she desperately wanted consolations herself? In addition, you had known so well that she would take all the blame and do anything to make you happy, how could you behave like a flirtatious macaroni all these days and take advantage of her?

You thought Frank Churchill was a villain because he had imposed on Emma and hurt her, and wanted to beat him to the end of the world if not for Miss Fairfax's sake. But after all he was just a new acquaintance; and what had you, the oldest, dearest friend of Emma who had bestowed so much faith and respect on you, done to her. You were one thousand times worse than Frank Churchill indeed.

Mr. Knightley was shocked at his realization, was too remorseful and ashamed to even look at Emma anymore. He must rectify the terrible errors he had made at once and do his duty to soothe and console her as her friend.

"You awake." Emma had wiped away her tears and managed a brilliant smile at him, which made him only more pity her and hate himself. "You must be thirsty, want some water?" Emma got up to fetch water on a table standing by the fireplace, and was a little surprised to see that Mr. Knightley had managed to sit up by himself when she turned round. She sat on the bed, hesitating if she should let him drink by her hand as she had done all through these days.

The hesitation didn't last long since Mr. Knightley reached out his left hand and took the glass. Emma sat back in the chair, a little farther than she used to, cracked a wry smile but said nothing. She comprehended his feelings.

Mr. Knightley looked at her with a mixed feeling of compassion and remorse, got a lot to say but barely knew where to start. He paused and contemplated, distracted by the awkward silence that shouldn't exist between Emma and him.

"I'm sorry, Emma." Finally he stammered.

"Why?"

"I apologize for my demeanour all these days. I...I shouldn't have behaved like that and troubled you so..."

Emma tried to give a playful smile, but not quite managed, "That's alright, you are a patient now. I can understand that."

Mr. Knightley was extremely distressed. He knew what he ought to say and what he ought to do, but he knew as well that's the last thing he wanted to say and do. How desperately would he miss Emma's care for him? He could hardly keep up with their wretched conversation dwelling on this frustration.

"Mr. Knightley..."

"Emma..."

"Pray continue."

Emma paused and resumed. She saw Mr. Knightley's suffering and could not bear it, even the topic she was bringing up would exhaust her. "Mr. Knightley, Harriet may call tomorrow, do you wish to see her?"

Mr. Knightley was at first a little surprised at the sudden change of topic, but a thought came to him which made him smile. "Yes, I'm glad to see her."

Emma sank further at Mr. Knightley's evident joy on hearing Harriet's name. She blinked back tears and simply replied, "I'll arrange it."

"Emma." After an interlude Mr. Knightley finally got his sense back to speak what he intended to.

"Yes?"

"You haven't asked me why I hurried back."

"Then why?" Emma failed to be enthusiastic when it probably related to Harriet.

"I heard some news."

"What news?" Emma lifted her eyes, a little confused.

"Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, of course."

"Oh yes, they were engaged to be married." Emma was suddenly enlightened. She had planned a visit to Miss Fairfax which was delayed by Mr. Knightley's injury.

It's Mr. Knightley's turn to be confused now. He did not quite understand Emma's reaction. "Are you...Don't you feel depressed, after his using you so abominablely ill?"

"Depressed?" Emma widened her eyes but soon turned red. "Oh, I know what you mean. You are very kind. But, I'm ashamed to admit… given all my improper conducts, but I must say that I have never been truly attached to him."

"Emma! Really? Not even a little?" Mr. Knightley looked eagerly at her, requesting a further confirmation. It's too great a knowledge to convince him easily.

"No, not at all. Maybe some imagination at the very beginning, but somehow I never thought him that way anymore. He's simply not the sort of man I will fall for."

"But I saw you crying." Mr. Knightley suppressed his rekindled hope. He needed to know what was upsetting her if it's not Frank Churchill.

"You saw me?" She colored again, giving him a nervous smile, "It's nothing, just some young girl's trifling pursuits."

Mr. Knightley pondered her words, young girl's pursuits. He knew perfectly well that Emma had never had the luck of possessing any suitable friends. Either Mrs. Weston or himself was too many years her senior. Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill's coming had enlivened her dull life, as well as inevitably broaden her vision. And these two were so favored by fate to be able to find true love so early in life. Even if Frank Churchill didn't hurt her himself, his engagement to Miss Fairfax might prompt her to expect a suitable wooer of her own, the sort of man she would fall for.

Emma's loneliness pained Mr. Knightley profoundly, his compassion for her overcame his own sentiment, "Emma, I have always felt sorry for you that the confined society never afforded you adequate company you deserved, maybe I should persuade your father to let you go now and then, I'm sure you will meet enough suitable...friends."

Emma was moved and obliged to his thoughtfulness, he knew she would be left absolutely alone once he got married, and had rendered her such tender consideration. She wouldn't allow herself to become a obstacle when he pursued his happiness. "Thank you Mr. Knightley, pray do not worry on my account. I'm sure I can find more friends, I'll be perfectly well." She smiled at him, as lively as she could.

...

It's a long, gloomy day, Mr. Knightley could not sleep even he was exhausted. Emma's indifference to Frank Churchill relieved him to some extent, but she was obviously unhappy either. And what frustrated him most was that he couldn't compensate or console her in the way she wanted. Their age gap, Emma's expect of suitable suitors held him back. And Emma's exceptional quality of sacrificing herself for the ones she loved and her thoughts of making amends to him for his injury even prevented him from trying.

He had an odd feeling that she probably would say yes if he asked her even she never thought him that way, and imposing on her against her will was exactly the last thing he would ever do.

He curled up in bed, holding the covers tightly to relieve his pain caused by this despair. Emma, on the other side of that wall, only an arm's length away from him, was the love of his life, and he could not even try for her.


	6. Chapter 6

Just a little more misunderstandings! :D

X

"Sir, wake up! Sir!"

"What's wrong?" Mr. Knightley opened his bleary eyes, a little vexed.

"Miss Smith has called. Miss Woodhouse said you are going to see her."

Mr. Knightley frowned, "what time is it?"

"Ten to eleven. Sir."

"Why didn't you awake me earlier?" Mr. Knightley demanded querulously, instinctively trying to sit up but only letting out a painful cry.

"Careful Sir!" Riley held him tight promptly, having not a care to explain why.

Mr. Knightley held his breath for a moment to tolerate the pain and exhaled, "That's alright, dress me."

"Pardon? Sir?"

"I said dress me."

"But you cannot get dressed now!"

"I think it's you who said Miss Smith was waiting for me."

"Yes. But..."

"Dress me." Repeated Mr. Knightley simply and firmly, having no extra energy to argue with him after staying awake all night.

Riley was sure this was the toughest task he had ever confronted. At least for three times he simply could not proceed and tried to persuade his master to give up his persistence. He failed of course.

At length Mr. Knightley was properly dressed, with face pale with pain and shirt socked with cold sweat. He moved to a small sitting room next door and slumped into the sofa waiting for Emma, and Harriet.

He was started by Emma's paleness, and confused by her inexplicable nervousness. But he had to draw his attention back as Harriet was enquiring after him with eagerness and worry and sincerity.

He thanked her warmly, reassured that he was very well, and asked about her doings in these days.

Emma was started too by Mr. Knightley's paleness and formal dress. She could hardly imagine how he put that formfitting tailcoat on with so many healing broken bones. But she was soon distracted by the way these two talked. Mr. Knightley showed a great curiosity about something which seemed improper to be laid out in public, while his meaningful words and smile made Harriet blush.

Emma said only one word greeting Mr. Knightley after entering the room. She was now sitting in a chair beside Harriet across from him, wringing her hands unconsciously and biting her lower lip hardly. But maybe she should excuse herself running some errands to leave room for them to talk openly, as well as for her own sake. She could no longer trust herself to maintain tolerable composure.

"I believe we need some tea, excuse me." Emma got up in such a hurry, almost tripped over the chair.

It took Emma quite a while to order the tea, much longer than it should. And Emma found both Mr. Knightley and Harriet were in high spirits when she finally came back.

"Miss Woodhouse!" Harriet, deeply blushing, with unconcealed cheerfulness, turned eagerly to Emma who was still standing by the door. "I have been trying to consult you about a matter hanging over my mind these days, but didn't get the chance. And I think you deserve to know the news at the earliest time as you are such a best friend and have been so kind to me."

Emma offered a wry smile, knowing that she could not escape the topic any more like she had successfully done for days, including this morning. "Thank you Harriet, I'm glad to hear it."

"Miss Woodhouse," Harriet paused, looking at her in a controlled joyful manner and a little nervous, "I'm engaged to be married."

"Engaged!" Emma cried out, turning deadly pale instantly at the word, could only be on her feet by reaching out one hand against the door frame. "So soon?" Her voice trailed off, almost inaudible.

"Yes..." Harriet was a little disheartened by Emma's over-reaction, "I have been thinking about that this may upset you, but..."

"Oh no, Harriet, it didn't. I'm sorry. I believe I must be too happy to be myself. Please forgive me and accept my best wishes. I wish you joy with all my heart as your best friend." Emma was too ashamed of her dreadful manner just now, which must have hurt her friend's feelings, to dwell on the consequences of this engagement. She hurried over to Harriet, holding her hands with hers, bursting out her congratulations as heartily as she could.

When she had comforted Harriet and saw a genuinely delightful smile on her face, she turned slowly around towards the direction where Mr. Knightley was seated. She had promised the moment when he got injured that she would offer her congratulations to him. No matter how cruel it was to her, she would keep her word and try to learn to be truly happy for him.

"Mr. Knightley," Stammered Emma, avoiding eye contact with him, "I con..."

"Miss Woodhouse," Harriet's excitement prevented her from observing Emma's oddity, "Mr. Knightley has given his consent. Will I be too bold to assume that you will attend our wedding too, which will be held in a fortnight?"

Emma snapped her head up, eyes shifting between Mr. Knightley and Harriet, totally bewildered. "Harriet, who are you to marry?" Managed she finally.

"Mr. Martin, of course!"

Emma stared at Harriet with uncommonly wide-open eyes for a few seconds, and then scared her by a sudden, most enthusiastic hug. "Oh Harriet, I'm so happy for you..." But she checked herself at once and talked about something regarding the wedding with sincerest, most heartfelt cheerfulness which successfully caught Harriet's attention and glossed over her own ridiculousness.

Emma had only stolen a quick glance at Mr. Knightley since she discovered whom Harriet was to marry. When Harriet took her leave before long for fear of wearing Mr. Knightley out, Emma made no further exchange with him except a slight curtsey before escorting Harriet out.

She parted with Harriet at the gate of garden, turning back and taking a peek at Mr. Knightley's window, walking slowly to the house in deep thought. The whole situation was a mess to her and she wasn't sure what to do next. She had known from Harriet that her little friend had mistaken her gratitude and admiration to Mr. Knightley as affection, and had resumed her passion immediately when Robert Martin proposed to her again with Mr. Knightley's sanction. So Mr. Knightley wasn't to marry anyone at all.

She was extremely relieved and content. They could be good friends still. Mr. Knightley would dine with them and read in their sitting room after dinner nearly every day. She truly had nothing extravagant to expect.

But she would be happier if she had never examined and known her own heart. She yearned to see him at this moment even if she got nothing to say and just watched him sleep. But Mr. Knightley had implied yesterday that their doings wasn't right, if it's not for Harriet's sake, it must be for the etiquette that she, a young lady with birth and education, shouldn't break, he even had set an example just now by dressing himself in this difficult, almost impossible condition.

Mr. Knightley hadn't moved a finger since Emma left the room, stunning at a vague conclusion he was trying hard to draw. Images of Emma's countenance and reactions, the shock and despair, the relief and ecstasy, played over and over again in his mind which was all in a muddle right now. What did all those mean?

Emma was no doubt delighted at Harriet's marrying Robert, though he didn't know what had altered her so completely but it didn't matter. And obviously she had mistaken the identity of the fiance at first, then who was the man she was reckoning? Why did that man being the fiance strike her so much?

It's not too difficult to narrow down the range thanks to Emma's simple social connections, there's few eligible men who was moving in the same circle with both Emma and Harriet. He could almost name the man when Elton and Frank Churchill had both settled down, though he couldn't figure out where she got such an absurd idea.

And he shivered at the second WHY. Did he dare to think as he wanted?

He needed to see Emma, now! He rose to his feet abruptly and pained himself, but nothing could stop him from staggering to the window and seeing Emma entering the house. He got back to his room, sat down in the chair, got up, paced the room, sat down again, moved to sit on the bed, got up again...He bustled restlessly for he didn't know how long, but at least long enough for Emma to get up and down stairs ten times over, and she didn't show up.

Mr. Knightley sat in the chair where Emma used to sit, depressed.

He was cheered up by a knock at the door and was knocked down again when Riley came in with his late breakfast. "Sir, your favorite apple pie."

Mr. Knightley shot him a sulking glance, making no answer.

Riley put the food tray on the table, looking at him compassionately and searching for some words to say.

"I'm tired, undress me." Muttered Mr. Knightley finally.

Riley reacted promptly at this order, going to one nightstand first and getting to Mr. Knightley's side with a pair of scissors in hand.

"What are you doing?" Mr. Knightley was baffled.

"Cut your clothes off, of course."

"Since when have you been this generous?"

"The first day I got here, Miss Woodhouse told me so." Riley couldn't be more decisive and nimble, a sleeve had broken away as he was speaking.

Mr. Knightley winced at the fate of his second favorite tails, but soon lost his interest in it. "Did you see Miss Woodhouse?"

"Yes, I saw her in the kitchen just now."

"Did she…say anything?"

"No." Riley peeked at his master from the corner of his eye when busying himself cutting his shirt, _what naughty things have you done to annoy the lovely Miss Woodhouse, why didn't she come to see you?_

Mr. Knightley had a restless sleep that Emma left him alone too in his dreams. When he struggled to wake up and unconsciously looked around, there's still an empty chair over there. He smiled wryly to himself for all his wishful thinking, even if he was the assumed man, she may simply don't want him to get married, which would leave her absolutely alone, and would deprive Henry of his claim on Donwell Abbey.

But at least she cared about him and he was still her good friend. And he longed for her company even as only a friend.

But he had apologized for his behavior yesterday, if his doings were wrong, so were hers. How could Emma, so intelligent and well bred a young lady, repeat the errors that he, her lifelong mentor had indicated? He groaned ruefully at his stupidity, planning an apology for his apologies.

Another knock at the door drew him back from his thoughts and didn't excite him. When he was sober, he could easily tell it wasn't Emma.

It's Riley with his dinner. He rolled over in bed to give Riley only his back. Riley took a glance at his untouched breakfast, turning extremely worried, "Sir..."

Mr. Knightley ignored him, and turned to another side when Riley stepped up and tried to face him.

"Sir, have some food please..."

"Keep it, I'm full."

"How possible? You didn't eat anything today!" Riley wanted to cry.

Mr. Knightley kept his silence.

"I shouldn't tell Miss Woodhouse you're well." Muttered Riley.

"What?" Mr. Knightley was roused by the name Riley mentioned.

"Miss Woodhouse asked after you just now, and I said you were well."

"So I'm well." Sulked Mr. Knightley.

"Maybe I should complain to the Mistress of the house that I cannot cope with her most difficult guest."

"Then why are you still here?"

"Could I?" Riley's eyes lightened, vanishing from the room in a second. He always learned from his master of never troubling others, but Miss Woodhouse shouldn't be counted in of course.

Mr. Knightley regretted his thoughtlessness when hearing Emma's rapid footsteps. She must be scared by who knew what Riley had told her. In the blink of an eye, the door was cracked open and Emma rushed into the room. "Are you alright? Did you get hurt this morning?"

"I'm fine, Emma! Don't take Riley's nonsense." (What an ungrateful fellow! ← _←)

"But he said you didn't eat anything today!"

"I'm just not hungry, nothing serious." He tried to sit up, but only suffered from the consequences of his overexertion in the morning.

Emma took one step forward trying to help him, but halted with a second thought.

Mr. Knightley cursed himself inwardly and reached out his hand to her. Emma offered a little smile before taking it and helping him up, and then turned to get his supper, "You should eat something."

"Emma!" He grabbed her arm, "I promise I will eat later. But for now could you please talk to me for a while?" He wasn't sure what he was going to say exactly, he simply wanted to speak to her, everything or anything.

Emma consent, intending to sit in her usual chair, but Mr. Knightley didn't mean to let go of her arm and she had to sit on the bed. She took a brief glance at his eyes then looked away, guessing what he was to say.

"Emma…"

Emma looked up at him, waiting.

"I'm sorry."

"What for this time?"

Mr. Knightley blushed at his inconsistency, "For… for everything I did."

Emma frowned, "But you didn't do anything wrong, actually you have been so kind and brave."

Mr. Knightley sighed, maybe not, maybe entirely. "Emma, we are old friends, right?"

"Yes, of course."

"And... I was always welcome to Hartfield, I suppose?"

"Of course you were, and you always will be, anytime! Did I do anything wrong to offend you?" Emma tensed up.

"No, you didn't!" He touched her hand to assure her. "And… you want me to be happy?"

"Yes," Emma lowered her eyes, coloring a little, "I cannot bear to see you suffering, any sort."

"So you will do things that you do not even like sometimes to make me happy?"

"If it could make you happy, I think I'll be glad to do it," She paused and added, "anything."

Mr. Knightley was dejected at Emma's answer, why couldn't she be a little selfish, thinking only of herself?

Emma was puzzled and uneasy at Mr. Knightley's plain upset, "I thought it's the duty of a good friend."

"But I don't want to be the good friend…" Mr. Knightley burst out without thinking twice, mind spinning on how to proceed.

Emma wasn't the type of crying easily in front of others, not even Mr. Knightley. But she simply couldn't help on hearing this from him. Tears poured down her cheeks instantly without a tiny noise, though she didn't understand why he said so all at once.

Mr. Knightley struggled out of his frustration and looked up, and was scared to death by what he saw. "Emma? Oh gosh! My dear Emma, I didn't mean that!"

"Emma, please!" He was too panic-struck to even find a handkerchief, could only used his sleeve to wipe her tears and made a real mess.

Emma let out a slight chuckle at his fumble which finally calmed him a little. He took her hand in his and pressed it, "Emma, I only wanted to say...I mean..." He hesitated again, but felt he could no longer suppress his eagerness.

"Emma, tell me, would you allow me to win your affections, not as a good friend, but a man?"

Emma lifted her head abruptly, gazing at his eyes, petrifying.

"Emma, I beg you, do not say yes if you don't want to. I promise I will never leave you. I will always be your good friend as long as you allow me to. I know you adore me, and you will do anything to make me happy as you just said. But Emma, you must know, you are the love of my life, I could never be happy if you are not."

Emma kept staring at him but gradually recovered from freezing at his confession and leaned slowly in until resting her cheek on his shoulder, "Mr. Knightley," She made a little noise which was half sob, half laugh, "you're the kindest, finest, and the stupidest man I've ever known."

It's Mr. Knightley's turn to be petrifying. He kept perfectly still except stammering, "Emma, what do you...Are you saying..."

"You want my answer?"

"Absolutely!"

"Then try another way to ask."

"Another way?"

"Don't you want to know whether I love you, Mr. Knightley?"

Mr. Knightley gasped, taking a deep breath to find his voice, "Emma, do you...love me?"

"Yes, Mr. Knightley," Emma sobbed with joy and relief, "desperately, hopelessly, unconditionally."

All of a sudden a strong arm wrapped her shoulder and pressed her into his chest so tightly as if she was to melt in there. She sighed contentedly, nestling against him, enjoying his warm, passionate, and powerful caress.

But she soon began to struggle to free herself.

"Don't, Emma." He held her tighter.

"Mr. Knightley, let go of me."

"No!"

"I'm hurting you!"

"I need the pain to remind me that I'm not dreaming."

"Mr. Knightley..." Emma was affected but could not be eased, and Mr. Knightley was too strong for her to get rid of. "Don't you want to...," She lowered her voice to a whisper and successfully sparked his curiosity. He pushed her a little farther to look at her.

But when he saw her beautiful teary eyes, silky pink cheeks and seductive soft lips, his mind was occupied by only one thing, one thing that made his heart skip a beat or two. He lowered his head to hers slowly while she closed her eyes lightly.

Mr. Knightley had never thought that Emma was this delicious, smelling like roses, tasting like honey. He kissed and bit ravenously at her lips, swearing that he would never let her go even though Mr. Woodhouse was walking in at this very moment.


	7. Chapter 7

Mr. Knightley got another sleepless night which was however worlds apart from the night before. Despite a lot of endeavor, he failed to drive Emma away from his mind and finally gave up. He tossed and turned, grinning to himself in the darkness...alright, like a fool.

And the consequence was it's already noon when he was again awaken by Riley the next day. He got up swiftly, picked out clothing himself, and spent much longer than usual in front of the mirror until the reflection satisfied himself. With heart pounding, he swung open the door when hearing Emma's knock at it, and stopped short of cuddling her while she was lightly walking in, followed by Mr. Woodhouse.

"Oh Mr. Knightley, have you caught a cold? You look feverish. I have told Emma and Riley that they shouldn't open your windows so often which no doubt will harm your health. Emma my dear, send someone for Dr. Perry immediately."

"Oh no, sir, there's no need. I assure you I'm very well." said Mr. Knightley, turning a deeper shade of red.

"Are you sure, Mr. Knightley? You look quite uneasy and uncomfortable. I suppose it's better to have Dr. Perry to see you."

"I thank you sir for your consideration. I'm quite fine, it's just a little…er…too warm! Yes, warm!"

Emma sat in the chair with a book in one hand covering half of her face, trying hard not to make any noise when chuckling uncontrollably. The glint of mischief in her eyes all along was pulling Mr. Knightley's hair out while he was busying himself convincing Mr. Woodhouse that Dr. Perry shouldn't be troubled, and pretending to be heartily into Mr. Woodhouse's compassion for Harriet, and then Mrs. Weston, and then Isabella...

When Mr. Woodhouse had conveyed the news he gathered from Miss Bates the day before, had consulted on the business matters he could think of at the time, and had expressed his opinions about how to take better care of Mr. Knightley, one or two hours had slipped away. But at last Mr. Woodhouse got tired, excusing himself with regret and intending to leave.

Mr. Knightley exhaled deeply, shooting Emma a complacent wait-and-see look before standing up.

Emma gasped and jumped to her feet, flying to her father and taking his arm, "Papa, I see you to your room."

"Excuse me, Sir! I'm getting an urgent business letter to write, could you please spare Emma for a moment to help me?"

"Of course, Mr. Knightley! Emma my dear, I can tend myself, you should take more care of Mr. Knightley as what I just said."

"But Papa..."

"Anything else?"

"No Papa..." pouted Emma.

"Very well!" said Mr. Woodhouse. And Mr. Knightley grinned like a cat getting his cream.

When he opened the door for Mr. Woodhouse and bowed good day to him and closed the door again, Emma had fled to the far end of the room, smiling impishly at him.

Mr. Knightley glanced sideways at her, stalked shortening their distance slowly and steadily, and exerted almost no effort to corner her by the window. Without a single word, despite her protest and struggle, he hold her tightly and kissed her, as feverishly as an amorous man did the young woman who had bewitched him, and doubled his plunder as her punishment.

Poor Mr. Woodhouse, how shocked would he be if he knew he had just handed his delicate, most precious younger daughter himself to a hypocritical monster?

Emma was a little surprised that she survived Mr. Knightley's kiss. She gasped for air while cuddling him greedily, and deeply blushed when sensing the extreme heat of his body.

"Should I call Riley to dress you?"

"Dress me, why? Don't you like this gown? I picked it out myself."

"The gown's fine. But I just recollected that you got yourself dressed yesterday morning."

"I thought it's an etiquette I should obey when meeting a decent young Lady."

"Are you saying that I am not ladylike enough to deserve your proper dressing?" demanded Emma playfully.

"I'm saying, my dear Emma, you are special enough to be able to take a peek at the improper side of Mr. Knightley."

Emma giggled, snuggling further against him. "May I ask you something?"

"Surely you may, what is it?"

"You have traveled the world, right?"

"Uh-huh, a little bit, not as much as I should."

"So you must have met a lot of beautiful, lovely, clever and accomplished young women, I suppose?"

Mr. Knightley raised an eyebrow, lowering his head to observe Emma's countenance, but she had hidden her face in the crook of his neck.

"Hum...yes...a few."

'Only a few? "

"All right, quite a few." Mr. Knightley made a face to himself, putting his hand on her hair.

"Did any of them fall in love with you? You're handsome, sensible, and rich." Emma lifted her head, smiling archly at him.

"Ah... I don't know, maybe, if I was like you said."

"You were!" Emma pouted, obviously didn't buy it.

Mr. Knightley smiled, planting a kiss on her forehead, "My dear Emma, it's unfair! You're asking me the feelings of others, how could I possibly know?"

Emma blinked, "Alright, then..." Emma didn't hide this time, but lowered her eyes and turned slightly pink, "have you ever loved any of them?"

Mr. Knightely wrapped his still healing right arm too around Emma's back, pulling her a little closer, "No Emma, I haven't. I believe you should have known if I have?"

"Then why? They were lovely and pretty and accomplished as you acknowledged, weren't they?" Emma was truly curious about that.

"Hum..." Mr. Knightley furrowed his brow, he hardly gave any thoughts on this sort of thing. "I don't know. I believe I was pleased when talking to a lovely young woman at a party or a dinner table, I enjoyed the pleasure too when occasionally dancing with them." Perceiving Emma's tiny displeasure, Mr. Knightley smiled and pecked on her cheek, "If you don't like what I was saying, my Emma, I much prefer to stop talking."

"No, prey continue, I want to know...I hardly know anything of you when you're away."

"Alright, where were we then?"

"You said you're pleased when talking and dancing with them."

"Yes, I was pleased when I was with them, and some friends might spice up wittingly at the spot, but none of them had ever returned to my mind once I left the assemblies. When I was alone in bed," He colored simultaneously when the last word escaped his lips, but did't stop, "I would think what Emma was doing. Did she behave when I wasn't watching her? What would she tell me if I arrived home at this moment? What gift should I bring for her? And then I would feel that I couldn't stay any longer outside and would go home as quickly as I could. And when I sat in the sitting room of Hartfield, I never wanted to go out again. I always thought it's because I love Donwell, love Highbury, and Hartfield, but now I know, it's only because you are here, my Emma."

Emma raised one hand to cup his cheek and caressed it gently, "Mr. Knightley..."

He twisted his head to kiss her palm, "I believe, Emma, I have fallen in love with you ever since your were thirteen at least."

"Why thirteen?" asked Emma inquiringly.

"I'm not sure of it, I can't fix on the very day. But you started managing Hartfield in that year, which had altered a lot of things essentially. Probably my view of you changed too, that you're no longer a spoiled little child."

"Sounds rational, but then I got another question."

"Young Emma's questions never ended." He made a face and stole a kiss from her.

"You have been nearly thirty when I was thirteen, there're theretofore a dozen years for you, why didn't you find someone to get married?"

"It's truly hard to satisfy you, my dear Emma. Well, let me see, it's been too long ago."

Emma tilted her head, looking affectionately at Mr. Knightley. For years she had been used to Mr. Knightley's bachelor status and had believed he would never marry. But once she was enlightened, once she had experienced the fieriest affections of human, she could not help wondering why it was she who was this fortunate to be ardently loved by such an exceptional man.

"I can't tell why, my Emma. I don't have any specific memory regarding any young lady." smiled he, "You know I'm a man of criteria, right? So I suppose it's simply because I have never met a young woman who had possibly matched my standards until now."

Emma sighed feelingly, leaning in his arms and wrapping him again, "Why am I this lucky, Mr. Knightley? What should I do to deserve you with all my faults and stupidities?"

"No Emma, all your faults are fancied by me for my own sake, you're the best of all creature, faultless with all your faults."

They snuggled sweetly against each other for a moment until Mr. Knightley resumed their sweet nothings.

"Emma, it's my turn to ask you something."

"I thought you knew everything of me?"

"Not at all, like 'the young girls' pursuit'!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Knightley," said Emma ruefully, "for causing you so much pain. I'm so ashamed when recalling all the things I said and did."

"No Emma, it's my fault. Had I not been so blind, not so indifferent, had I been braver to woo you when you were of age, we might have had..." He cut it off abruptly, and both of them blushed.

"What did you want to ask me?" Emma went back to the topic first.

"I sent Riley to Abbey early this morning to fetch something for you, would you like to see it?"

"From Abbey, for me? What is it?"

Mr. Knightley reached his hand into his pocket and pulled something out. Emma looked down and gaped at what she saw. It's a vintage emerald ring, not very big, but extremely exquisite and elegant, shining blindingly on his palm.

"Emma, would you do me the honor of wearing it?" For the first time of the day Emma caught solemnity in his voice, mixed with a perceivable trace of nervousness.

"And it is...?"

"It's a family ring for the Mistress of Donwell Abbey. Will you...Emma?" He looked at her, anxiously.

"Would you, my dear Mr. Knightley, do me the honor of putting it on yourself?" She looked back into his eyes, most sincerely.

Mr. Knightley grinned widely, fumbling quite a while with a stiff right hand to put the ring on Emma's delicate finger, the very right place. And it fit perfectly, just like it's made for her!

"Now I have fixed you, my dear Emma, you could never run away from me." He pulled her in his arms, looked like a little child getting his Christmas box.

"What if I said no just now?" infected by his animation, Emma teased him impishly.

"I will kidnap you, or...kiss you in front of your father, then he will have no choice but to give you to me." grinned he wickedly.

Emma giggled lovely, "Who will believe these are words from respectable Mr. Knightley?"

"A Mr. Knightley like this is for you only, my Emma…"

Emma could make no more teases, as her lips were occupied by someone else's.


	8. Chapter 8

All fluff, and that's all. :D

* * *

"What are you doing, Riley?"

"Packing your things, Sir!"

"Why are you packing my things?"

"We are going home tonight, Sir!"

"I didn't say I'm going home tonight?"

"But…Miss Woodhouse said so…"

Mr. Knightley was choked, he surely had free reign to command Riley, but only not in Miss Woodhouse's house.

He huffed to the next door and knocked at it.

"Come in! Abigail, did you see my yellow ribbon? I think I left it…Mr. Knightley…"

Mr. Knightley stood stiffly at the doorway, watching Emma yanking up a shawl from the nearest seat back and wrapping it around her shoulder hastily trying to cover her silky, light yellow dressing gown. He shifted a little, as if to leave the room, but he didn't.

 _We have been engaged. It won't be an unpardonable breach of propriety if Emma doesn't feel offended._

"Mr. Knightley, I'm…I'm dressing for dinner…"

"I know, you told me before you came back."

"Are you…do you need something from me?" She blushed at her terrible wording, hoping he would not distort it.

"Why did you let Riley pack my things?"

"Don't you want to go home? You have been staying here for almost twenty days."

"No I don't!" most firmly.

"But you should whether you want or not."

"Why should I, Emma? I'm not well enough to be moved. I will be badly re-injured on my way home."

"Mr. Knightley, you have just walked six turns with me in the garden, the total distance is at least no shorter than that from Hartfield to Abbey. Besides, I'm not so cold blood to let you go on foot. James will go with you, I'm sure he can handle your carriage much more steadily than you even believe."

"But my heart will be broken if you drive me out."

Emma sighed indulgently at the vexatious Mr. Knightley, "Dr. Perry had told father that you're mended well and could go home safely now."

"I believe Mr. Woodhouse doesn't mind if I stay one or two more days."

"I met William Larkins on my way back from Randalls this morning. I'm afraid he will kill me if I keep you any longer."

"Larkins? He surely should know his master's wellbeing is much more important than his master's estate." cried Mr. Knightley.

"Then what about the parishes, the residents of Donwell? I remember Mr. Weston mentioned a few days ago that there're some intractable matters waiting for your decision?"

Mr. Knightley was silenced for a second, "Why are you so clever, Emma? I'm almost convinced."

"So Riley can continue his packing?"

"Only if you reward me."

"Reward you?"

Mr. Knightley left the doorway, strode across the room to Emma and halted right before her, lowering his head to hers with a wicked smile. Emma shot him an annoyed look but her body acted conversely. She stood on her toes, pressing her lips tenderly to his and being instantly held.

Mr. Knightley was a most fetching lover. Emma could never get tired of his intimacies towards her. His gentle, firm and passionate kisses reminded her over and over again that she was ardently loved. She believed she would like to die in his arms when he held her…

So she was startled and caught by a sense of loss when suddenly he released her and took a step back with jaw clenched and eyes closed.

"Mr. Knightley! What happened? Are you alright?" Emma approached and tried to hold him again.

"Don't Emma, give me a minute."

"Should I call the doctor? I call the doctor now." Emma ran to the door.

"NO, no! Emma, stay here, don't move." He grasped her arm and let it go at once as if Emma was burning him.

After quite a while Mr. Knightly opened his eyes, finding Emma looking at him and blinking back tears, "Are you alright? Did I hurt you?"

"No, you didn't, Emma. I'm very well."

"You're lying. I can see you're suffering the pain." A tear rolled down, "And you don't want to tell me the truth."

Mr. Knightley bit his lower-lip with cheeks beginning to burn. "I promise you, my dear Emma, I'm perfectly well. And … I'll tell you … someday later … once ..."

Emma tilted her head, studying his face bewilderedly until all of a sudden something of deep natural instinct struck her. A bright shade of crimson suffused her face before she spun on her heels and ran to the window, farthest away from him.

Mr. Knightley restrained his urge of following her, unless he wanted Emma to claim a chaperone when next time meeting with him. He stood where he was and watched her back. That flawless feature and figure were always his favorite, even the view of her back was more than enough to fix his eyes forever. He all but went mad again when recalling the feeling of her soft, seductively curved young body, covered only by a thin layer of fabric, nestling in his arms.

He swallowed, decided to go but refused to move. _At least one more kiss, even a chaste one will do,_ thought he.

"All right, I'll get out of here tonight." He grumbled as ruefully as he could.

As expected, Emma turned and stepped back to him, standing a little farther than he wanted, "Will you come to dinner tomorrow?"

"And breakfast." added he quickly.

Emma giggled helplessly, "You better take the carriage. You shouldn't overexercise now."

"I don't really mind getting injured again, my Emma. You will hold and feed me anyway." He stole a last kiss for now from her before escaping the room, "I'm waiting for you downstairs, Emma."

* * *

When Mrs. Weston was recovered enough to walk out of the house and call on her friends, Emma prevailed on her father to hold a big dinner party for her dear friend and little Anna Weston. Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley, Frank Churchill had all contrived to come.

It's indeed a harmonious and cheerful assembly where there're so many events to congratulate on. Mrs. and Miss Weston's safety, Mr. Knightley's recovery, Jane Fairfax's engagement to Frank Churchill, Harriet's wedding. Everyone was ebullient and beaming, even Mr. Woodhouse didn't find any of them poor, if only Eltons were not here.

Mrs. Elton easily had more ambitions than capabilities of presiding over a gathering, and the thing was she never ceased trying. She scanned the dinner table, eyes fixing on Miss Fairfax sitting right opposite her across the strawberry cake.

"Oh Jane my dearest friend, you little saucy thing. How could you manage so without a tiny divulgence? Or I should never contrive to find you an attractive position. But I must confess that we do have been long expecting a … you know, noble gentlemen and charming young ladies are always blessed by lord. We just didn't predict in the right direction…"

The bustling room silenced instantly at this vivid presentation to the satisfaction of this elegantly dressed young lady. She scanned again and smiled at the embarrassments, surprises, regrets, bewilderment, worries, and a schadenfreude, "it's very true, Augusta." echoed Mr. Elton.

Emma grinned lovely when she glanced at Mr. Knightley seated next to Jane and found him at the edge of an explosion of anger. She turned to Jane and resumed the topic gracefully, "Dear Jane, I presume we are to lose you soon as you just came back home?"

"With my aunt and Mrs. and Mr. Weston's being here, I can hardly imagine your avoiding my frequent presences." smiled Jane gratefully.

* * *

"Emma, I must tell your father about our engagement, I cannot bear that insufferable woman insults you!"

"Mr. Knightley, I never heard you using such a strong word against a lady, it's unforgivable."

"She deserves it, and her dear Mr. E." paused a second, "And I want them to know you love me, not him."

"You are still annoyed with that?" teased Emma.

"Only a little better. And they also should know you do not need their compassion, you are fiercely loved by a much more amiable man."

"Mr. Knightley, I hardly believe you are considered more amiable than Frank Churchill by any of them." Laughed Emma.

"Am I not?"

"You are, but they don't know, and I am glad with that."

"Then can we go to your father now?"

"I'm afraid father will be distressed at the idea that I will be taken away from him. I'm so sorry Mr Knightley. If..."

"Emma," Mr Knightley took her hands and kissed them, "I never said I will take you away from your father?"

"Even though it's not far, I don't think father will agree to move to Abbey."

"I am not going to move your father anywhere either."

"Then you will visit Mrs Knightley everyday as you do Miss Emma?" confused Emma.

"My darling dear Emma, had you not kicked me out, I am still living happily with you and your father by now. Won't you take me back?"

"Are you serious, Mr. Knightley? That's different."

"I don't see any difference."

"Living constantly with my father, losing all your independence, living in his father in law 's house as the master of Donwell Abbey? Mr Knightley, you must reconsider it!"

"I have, Emma, and I know I will be perfectly content by living at Hartfield with you and your father, day and night.

* * *

 **Epilogue**

"Mrs. Knightley!" Mr. Knightley emerged at the doorway, looking lovingly at his new wife.

Emma, standing by the fireplace, shifted at her new appellation, but didn't turn round. Night had fallen, the world quieted down, the only sounds in her ears were the crackle from the burning woods and the pitter-patter from her own heart.

Mr. Knightley approached and embraced her chastely from back, "Feel cold? You are shivering."

Emma turned in his arms to face him with arms around his waist, cheek on his shoulder. "No, I'm sorry."

"Never be sorry Emma, the only thing matters to me is you're happy every day, which makes me happy."

Emma looked up and smiled at him, "Then why aren't you kissing me now to make me happy? What are you waiting for?"

How could Mr. Knightley, who had been struggling so hard to restrain himself from being unthoughtful, resist such straightforward an invitation. "Emma..." only one vague word escaped his lips before they were occupied in a much more pleasing way. And not only her lips, cheeks, forehead, and eyes were welcoming him now, he dared even to expand his explorations to her ears, neck and collarbones which he had longed for months but could not touch until now...

"Mr. Knightley..." murmured Emma, enchanted by his burning desire for her.

"My dear Emma, you do know I have another name, right?" His voice was muffled by her silky smooth skin.

"Yeah, why?"

"Then prepare it for yourself, 'Mr. Knightley' will soon be insufficient for you to use." with quite an endeavor he pulled himself up and grinned wickedly at her.

"I fear you have to stick on it forever, Mr. Knightley!" Emma retorted.

"Well, let's see who's having the last laugh." He pecked her loudly on her lips before swinging her off her feet, striding proudly to their colossal bed like a triumphal knight!

 **Fin**

* * *

Thanks for reading!

Some how I like a less serious Mr. Knightley, even a little boyish in front of Emma. And you? : )


End file.
